


They aren't together, yet.

by Celticas



Series: Trope Bingo [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Lunch Ladies see all, M/M, Office Betting Pools, trope bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-24 10:14:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21097787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celticas/pseuds/Celticas
Summary: Claire liked her job. It suited where she was in life. Watching the office drama play out in the early hours of the morning was just a side benefit.





	They aren't together, yet.

****

Claire liked her job. It wasn’t fancy, or high-powered. But the benefits were good, and was flexible enough to allow her to go to college. The overnight shifts were the best. Quiet enough that she could study, but still a handful of people around so there was someone to talk to. A lot of them thought she was just the lunch lady; that she didn’t know what happened on the floors around her level 10 cafeteria. They were wrong. She was quiet and liked to people watch. She saw the injuries that they weren’t quite able to hide. She knew that the mix of people wasn’t normal for a Department of Agriculture.

She didn’t expect much from that night’s shift. It was a few weeks before Christmas and most of the building way empty. Her last exam for the semester had been that afternoon and she was exhausted. She would have preferred to be home asleep, but her mom had lost her job the month before and they needed the money for rent. As it was, it was going to be a lean winter. 

Sandwiches and coffee set out, she settled behind the counter with one ear on the oven timers, a coffee for herself and a well-loved Temperance Brennan book. On her second pot of coffee and two thirds of the way through her book (and her shift) the door to the otherwise empty room creaked open. A blonde man huddled inside a too big hoodie and sweatpants shuffled in. Weary eyes darted around, only moving further across the space once he had identified everything in the room, including her. She watched it all over the top of her book.

A single egg-salad sandwich went onto his tray. She noticed the muesli bar disappeared into a pocket but didn’t say anything. The food was free, they just had to log what they were using. He stopped in front of her, eyeing the coffee pots behind her.

Silently she filled up a cup and held it out. He eyed the cup, her, her book, and her own cup. His eyes were so sad, and full of fear. For long seconds they stood watching each other. Eventually she raised the cup to her own lips, took a sip and held it out again. This time he took it.

Ten minutes later, the purposefully bland Mr Coulson slipped into the room and joined the scared blonde man. They left without saying anything.

Every few night shifts the same scene would play out. The only difference was that sometimes they came in together. Months dribbled past. Classes started again. The fear slowly drained from the blonde man’s eye. Their chairs inched closer together.

The whispers started after the first time Clint, the blonde man, laughed when others were around. Claire had seen him laugh a couple of times by that point. Mostly late at night because of something Coulson, and once she, had said. The quiet rumours of late night dinners and leaving together merged into stories of a relationship. The jealous adding a vicious twist of favouritism and sleeping his way to the top. Claire made sure those people always got the burnt coffee.

She hid her knowing smirks behind her text books and the newest Richard Castle pulp. There wasn’t anything going on there. Yet. The next Christmas was rolling around. Exams piling on, it was her last semester and Contract Law was kicking her butt, and she was just about done with them pussy-footing around each other.

Her patience finally snapped late one Wednesday evening, or early Thursday morning, whatever. The two men had been sitting at the corner table, quietly working on paperwork. Both of them sneaking glances at each other when the other wasn’t looking. 

Stamping across the room, coffee pot in hand as a pretense, she slammed it down between them. She knew it was bad when they both jumped, startled. If they hadn’t been spending so much energy trying to subtly watch each other, they would have seen her coming a mile away.

Clint blush ran from the roots of his hair, down his face, and down under the collar of his overly tight tee shirt. Agent Coulson, she listened ok, was able to collect himself quicker, offering her a bland but kind smile.

“Claire! Hi.” Clint almost squeaked.

“Ms Shaw.” Coulson offered.

“Enough.” She growled. It was out of character enough that they both shut up, Clint’s teeth closing with a click. “Talk.” Crossing her arms, she glared down at them.

“And what, pray tell, should we talk about?” Coulson asked. “Perhaps the upcoming holiday period? Do you and your mother have plans? Or maybe, your exams? If you need help with Contract Law, I’m sure Mr Wilson can help.”

“Funny. No. Talk to each other.” 

“We were talking.” Clint found his voice.

“Not about this though.” She waggled a finger between them. “About you. Get over yourselves and kiss or whatever.” Turning, she left them to it.

They had disappeared by the time she made it back to the counter.

The cafeteria was buzzing with an unusually high number of people when she slipped in behind the counter during lunch three days later. The short, bald Latino man, Sitwell?, appeared to be holding court at the table in the centre of the room. People swirling in and then away. There were too many people, and too much distance, for her to make out what was being said.

Stuttering silence crept across the room. Looking up, she saw Coulson and Clint had come in, hand in hand. Good, they had listened.

Clint broke away, striding up to Sitwell. A short intense conversation followed. Something passed between them, then Clint was heading directly for her.

“Your winnings.” He held out a wad of cash.

“What?” She backed away from the money, she hadn’t helped them because of some sick betting pool.

“We would have both been too chicken shit to say anything without you.” He smiled.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm over on [Tumblr](https://quartzcelticas.tumblr.com/), and will be announcing somethings over there in the next day or so. So come over and say 'hi'.


End file.
